Episode 18 - Walkabout

As I lay my head down to sleep, the quiet mummer of chattering fills the dimly lit hut in which I am staying. I look up at the grass roof and know that above it there is nothing but sky which is peeked at through the small clearing in the jungle canopy. I am quite literally spending the night in the middle of the jungle. Childhood dream achieved. I still can’t quite believe that I am here. But I should probably explain how it is that I came to be here. Lukas’s Sister and Brother-in-law have come to stay with him for a few weeks and he wanted to give his brother-in-law, Johannes, a real taste of Papua New Guinea. So he drove deep into the remote villages until the road was barely passable anymore and asked around to see if he could find anyone who would be willing to act as a guide through some of the truly remote areas, and who could find a place to stay the night. He succeeded, arranged a date, and invited me to tag along.

Locals using our track to get goods to market

So at one o’clock on Friday we all met outside the local corner shop; Tocsi - the man Lukas met, Solo - Tocsi’s son (presumably not named after one of the greatest spacecraft pilots that the galaxy has ever seen, but I like to think that there’s a chance), Jethro – Tocsi’s relative and fellow guide for our trip, Lukas, Johannes, and myself. We walked to the nearby PMV (public motor vehicle) stop and after letting Tocsi work out which PMV we wanted, jumped into the back of an open top truck and we were on our way! Stood at the front we held on to the guard rail. I had a nice chat with one of the locals who I think thereafter felt responsible for my safety, so he held onto the rail one hand either side of me trapping my in a strange kind of bear hug. It was a lovely act of kindness to help keep me safe, but it did feel quite strange!

The road to the start of the walk

A couple of hours later we made it as far as the road went, and to the beginning of our walk. The pace was fast straight from the off. I could just keep up, but if I stopped to take a photo then I wouldn’t catch up unless they stopped for me. I was soon identified as the weak link in the group and the one who needed looking after, which I must admit hurt my pride a little. But, when I first arrived to PNG Michael warned me that this country has an ability to strip away all of a person’s pride, and it soon became apartment that Tocsi’s judgement was not misplaced. In my (now to be seen as mistaken) wisdom I decided to wear my hiking sandals as I knew there would be many river crossings. Whilst I did save much time going across rivers, they lacked grip on steeper parts of the tracks, and once they were muddy my feet moved around in them quite a lot so they now look like the surface of a strange planet! Despite being the only one with this superior grip in the river, I was also the only one to fall into the river. No trouble caused though – only a slight bruise to my ego and a temporarily broken phone (so I’m afraid there are no photo’s until Lukas sends me his) Tocsi kept suggesting that he should carry my bag for me, but I didn’t like the idea of someone else having to carry my bag for me. Or to put it another way, my pride got in the way.

A narrower part of the river

The path was very rarely wider than the length of my foot, and with the rain cutting out gullies in the path, sometimes narrower than the width of my foot. The path followed the river for the most part. Sometimes this meant that the path was a river. Other times it meant the river was the path. As well as going along the river, the path took us along rocky cliffs with sheer sides and dense jungle, so dense in parts that if you fell to the side it repelled you and threw you back on to the path. The path went up and down (but rarely ever flat), we scrambled up slopes, jumped off missing parts of path and walked along felled trees where there was no other path. It was great fun, probably my favourite kind of walking, but it is also very tiring. And I am, it turns out, not as fit as I thought.

The path is there somewhere...

As we carried on, I started not keep up with the pace and the others would have to stop more frequently to allow me to catch up. My calves started to cramp a little (which was disconcerting because my legs have never cramped up on a hike before) and I started to fall over, which was both embarrassing and frustrating. As the mist rolled in, the downhill path got slippier, my calves started to hurt more, I started to fall more often and dark started to set in, I realised as Tocsi offered to carry my bag once again, that this time I had to accept.

My Hero

This felt like a low. A humiliation. A defeat. But at the same time, I didn’t care anymore. Something more important was at stake. I didn’t want to slow my companions down any more. I wanted us to make it to our place of rest before it went dark. I just wanted to make it. I didn’t fall down any less. In fact I fell down more. A lot more. But that’s okay, I’m actually quite good at falling (anyone who’s ever been snowboarding with me will attest to that). And  I didn’t care if I fell any more (although I’ll confess to wondering how pathetic they must think I was, and could only hope that they’d give me credit for the fact that no matter how many times I fell down, I got back up again). I may have fell down more often, but I also sped up, fear of falling no longer slowed me down and I was often helped up or steadied by either one of the guides, or one of the lovely children who would seemingly appear and disappear from nowhere. One of the boys even cut a stick for me to help steady me. It actually did help a lot, although I felt like I was piloting a gondola and I suspect I looked like a very poor amateur downhill skier complete with dramatic falls and oohs and aahs from the crowd.

That's the path - behind us and to the right

But try as I might, spurred on zealously from this new freedom, night time waits for no man. Dark set in and we still had not made it. It had started to rain and my legs we’re periodically cramping up much worse than I have ever felt before (to the extent that all I could do was curl up into a ball and mumble). I had no idea how far away the house we were staying at was, nor how far I could walk, but I just had to pray and keep going. And that prayer felt slightly, like giving my bag to Tocsi, like this was my mess and my responsibility and I shouldn’t be giving it over to someone who hasn’t caused it and He wants to help, if only we’ll let Him. I also realised that I was four hours from the nearest road, and didn’t know how my legs would feel in the morning, but I couldn’t worry about that now, I’d have to face that tomorrow. It also brought home a very real truth for the people who live in this place. The nearest aid post is right back where we started our walk, so if someone gets sick then somehow they have to make the journey that I’m struggling on – whilst being unwell! And this path was not just used in emergencies. The village we were heading to grows coffee and they have to take it to Goroka to sell. That means making this journey and then the two hour PMV ride, whilst heavy laden with coffee! And this isn’t an unusual village, this is an everyday reality for many in PNG. With this reality check clearly in my mind, I got up and carried on.

Dark really is dark here

Eventually our torch light made out the outline of a small group of buildings. We had made it! Worn out and wet through, but we had made it! As I stepped into the small hut of the family who had very kindly agreed to let us stay with them for the night, my eyes were met by the glow of a roaring fire, the very sight of which warmed my heart. The house was is no bigger than a small sitting room with a raised area on two sides of the room for sleeping, with the fire on the floor. About twenty people (some from other houses) either stood or sat around the fire perched on the edge of the sleeping area. But I had no time to take any of this in before a small old lady had burst out of the smoke and wrapped her arms tightly around me drawing me into a hug. There are no words to express the joy that this brought to my soul. Except maybe to say that it made me want to cry. I was tired, wet, hungry and hurting. I had everything to gain from being here. She had nothing to gain from me being here, but she was just delighted that I had made it. I felt loved accepted and welcomed. I had hoped to find my needs of warmth shelter and food met, but I found much more. Although the former was very gratefully received too.

The crowd

We pulled out some supplies from our bags and the lady of the house cooked it for us. We sat around and talked and shared stories. We shared tea, and gave a couple of gifts to say thank you. And then we got ready for bed. Whilst every one watched us. I can’t say I’ve ever had such a large audience watch as I got changed before, but I guess that’s village life…

The view from our sleeping bags

As I close my eyes and go to sleep, I have a lot to reflect upon. How lucky I am to be in this place. To see the things I have seen today. To have heard the bird song and smelt the flowers. To be with this family that has shown us such loving kindness. To have made new friendships with Tocsi and Jethro and for the help they have given me in getting here. For all the day has brought, yes, but also much more. What life in a jungle village really means, both the hardships and the joys. About pride and how we let it get in the way. How we hide our weakness from other people (and sometimes ourselves and God) instead of letting people help. How I can get caught up in version of me that I’d like to be, or think other people think I ought to be instead of knowing who I truly am, both strengths and weakness and holding true to that so that I can be the best me there ever could be. How it’s okay to fall, and that God will catch us if we let Him. That we don’t have to be good at everything. That’s okay. We not expected to get life right all the time either. We are all learning, and there is only one teacher. We will make mistakes. We will fall down. A lot. But God wants to help us back up again. But the deepest thought of all is how impressive it is that Jesus walked so far in sandals!

TUNE IN ON WEDNESDAY FOR A MIDWEEK SPECIAL TO FIND OUT HOW THE JOURNEY ENDS AND WHETHER OR NOT I MAKE IT BACK ALIVE!*

*spoiler alert; there are no blogging facilities in the middle of the jungle…